I have lived in the same street next to the same people for 7 years now and in 6 weeks we move out to begin the process of planting a missional community in a new development. It was a great time of ministry here in Lesmurdie and we saw a whole bunch of young people come to know Jesus, but I have a few things to get off my chest.

Here goes…

Last week I met my neighbour who lives on our right for the first time. We shook hands and introduced ourselves – both of us somewhat embarrassed. I hadn’t been avoiding him, but for some reason in the seven years we were living here our paths never crossed. I had met his wife, spoken with her numerous times, but John and I had never said as much as a “g’day”.

Does that seem just a little odd to you?

Strike one…

Our neighbours on the left are two very pleasant people both in their late 50’s and we have had a very cordial relationship with them. When we are on holidays they bring in our newspapers and collect our mail. They give us the excess eggs their hens have laid and I feed those same hens when they go away on vacation. I have helped Toni jumpstart her car and Rob has kindly trimmed overhanging trees that technically might have been our responsibility. We have never disagreed over anything and if there has been a problem (our dog barking) they have politely spoken to us about it and we have made sure we have fixed the problem. All very neighbourly don’t you think? All very amenable. Isn’t that what neighbours are supposed to be like?

There’s just one problem… we don’t know them. I mean that. I couldn’t tell you anything about their lives beyond their employment and I’m even a bit shaky on that! We have never been inside each others home, we have never shared a meal together. We have dragged each others bins in, waved warmly as we have left for work but the fact remains… we just plain don’t know each other – after 7 years. How can that be?…

Strike two…

Over the last few months we have also been selling our home and in that process we met a youngish family who live 6 houses away just around the corner. They were checking our place out with her parents who were considering moving up this way. As I spoke with them I asked them how they, as a younger couple were settling into a predominantly baby boomer area.

“A what kind of area?” they asked somewhat bemused. “Since we’ve been here we have met 4 other young families just like us who live in the same street and we catch up every few weeks for dinner or just to hang out. We’ve got heaps of friends. Its been great! ”

Question… how come I didn’t know that? How come I have lived in this area for 7 years, within 100m of these families and never met any of them? And perhaps even more confronting is the question; what if I had met them? Would we be friends now, or would my busy church centred life of the last 7 years have prevented me from anything but the occasional wave as I drove past?

Strike three…

From there it actually gets worse… but I think you get the picture.

Now – its not that I’m an unfriendly guy! It not that I don’t value connecting with people in my community… I think?… But the raw evidence of my life seems to say otherwise.

How can you live in the same secluded street, of just six houses for 7 years and never get below the surface with one single person? How can you live in the same street for 7 years and never actually speak to some of your neighbours?

What is happening there?

In this time between churches I have intentionally put down my Christian books and picked up some novels. Recently I read Hugh Mackay's latest novel Winter Close a story of life and relationships in one suburban Sydney street. Mackay is a well known Australian social commentator and many of his research insights seep through into his novels.

I started reading this one in particular because I reckoned I might glean more of what it means to live in Aussie suburbs – or any suburbs for that matter – and as a church planter I might be better equipped. I wasn’t disappointed.

Try these on for size and see if you can identify with what he says…

Rich is fond of saying that the thing about Winter Close is that it fosters a real sense of community. That's a big claim and I wish I could share Rich's confidence in making it. Now that Sydney has grown to four million, communities are hard to come by: a common complaint among Sydneysiders is that 'we don't know our neighbours' - as if that's the neighbours fault. I've given up saying 'why don't you knock on their door and introduce yourself?' The puzzled looks I receive make it clear I have missed the point: plenty of people like not knowing their neighbours and only pretend to complain about it. Suburbia offers the wonderful cloak of anonymity for those who want the security of proximity without any of the demands of intimacy P.10

Ouch! Could that be me? And then on a similar theme the main character, Rich, is reflecting on his own relationships:

The contract between neighbours is based on resistance to intimacy, so a quite different kind of closeness becomes possible: easy open, comfortable, but devoid of any ultimate responsibility or any glimpses into each other's souls. These are adjacent lives - sometimes even parallel lives - rather than shared lives. We compensate for our physical proximity by keeping our emotional distance. These are not like relationships between friends, or even between people who work closely together - I know Maddy better than I know Rich, Abel, or Mrs Spenser, or Joe Riley. Perhaps the thing suburban life offers us is the possibility of living the life of a herd without the bonds of a tribe: proximity, familiarity, trust, support... but not intimacy. When we cross that line we cease to be neighbours and become something else P.156

What's it all mean? I feel like God has been using Mackay's novel to challenge me to consider what it means to be a 'neighbour' and is asking whether I am satisfied with the unwritten rules of neighbourlyness – the comfortable distance we seem to keep from each other – the parallel lives that rarely intersect in meaningful ways. I am reminded of Jerry Maguire – ‘good at friendship but bad at intimacy'. I often feel like him. Yet I sense that I need more gutsy, earthy relationships and that the people in my street may secretly want that too.

If 'the word became flesh and moved into the neighbourhood' (John 1:14 Message) would he look for the 'security of proximity without any of the demands of intimacy'?… Would he keep his emotional distance or would he seek to re-negotiate the ‘contract’ that seems to exist between neighbours?

I know I can't change my neighbours – but I'm willing to give God a shot at changing me into someone who is willing to get a bit more involved in the lives of those I live near to. I am willing to spend less time consumed with church life and activity and more just being with the people I am living amongst. As we move out to plant a new church I believe I need to do this one simple thing if I am to take seriously Jesus’ call to incarnational mission.

In one of his other non-fiction books Turning Point Mackay says

Australians (and probably westerners in general) are longing for a ‘village’ lifestyle – for an ideal community where people are valued and where real relationships take the place of busy independence. Creating the village has less to do with where we live and more to do with how we live. Moving to a country town won’t make us more loving people. However – choosing to love and value relationships can create a village within a city. We can find what we desire, but paradoxically only as we choose to give love. P.66

I know I am not alone in this confession. Many of us have been good at running churches or organising ministries but not so good at loving our neighbours.

Yet I have a feeling if we as followers of Jesus can’t lead the way with this one then whatever else we have to offer is going to seem just a bit lame.